


Contumacious

by ryuuzaou



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bodyguard AU, F/M, but she does a great job being hardcore af anyway, lucy never made her Great Escape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuzaou/pseuds/ryuuzaou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>[kon-too-MEY-shuh-s] adj., 1. stubbornly perverse or rebellious; willfully and obstinately disobedient.</i>
</p>
<p>Laxus Dreyar needs a break from hard work. That's the only reason he's taking a bodyguard job. It'll be like being paid to eat, sleep, and stand outside a door. </p>
<p>Lucy Heartfilia needs to get out, a goal made impossible when assigned a personal escort. In retribution, she's determined to make it as difficult as she can. </p>
<p>It won't be easy on either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> wow im starting another fic i probably wont finish what a surprise

She wouldn’t make it.

Even as she was making the plans, she knew it was futile. All of it. But even the tiniest sliver of hope was enough to pack a small bag and wait until nightfall.

She’d be caught before she managed to get off the estate. One of the night guards would see her and make chase. Considering she never got the chance to own any shoes without heels, she’d be back in her room in minutes, waiting fearfully for morning to come to hear her father’s wrath.

Lucy Heartfilia knew this with all certainty, but why not try?

This is how she ends up with a bare candle in hand (the wax is hot as it drips on her fingers) and her Zodiac keys on her belt, creeping soundlessly through the halls she knows so well. The bag that sways at her hip is light; she didn’t own too much that could be considered personal. However, it does contain a map. The last thing she needs is to get off the estate, only to wander aimlessly back onto it (which, in fact, was very likely, considering the size of the Heartfilia’s land).

She doesn’t even make it out the door.

One of the few estate guards stands in front of the doors, facing the hall. Lucy considers another exit, but all the others lead onto the main grounds, and that would get her spotted immediately. This door leads to the back garden, where a shed has a door to enter the garden and exit the grounds. Perhaps she can bribe him, somehow?

“Lady Lucy,” the guard says, and he looks directly at the corner behind which she hides. “Please return to your quarters.”

Well, her cover’s blown. Whatever. Lucy steps out from behind the wall, shoulders back and head held high. “You _will_ let me pass.”

She sees the hesitation in the wrinkles that crease his brow. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

“What did my father tell you?”

There’s no subtlety in the way he avoids her gaze. “That does not have to do with the matter at hand.”

Lucy studies his face and tries to remember his name. Something she found fitting because of his facial structure… Auhert. Heart-shaped face. That’s it. “Auhert, please, you know what it’s like for me here. You know how I feel. You know how he is.”

Auhert closes his eyes, his inner turmoil obvious in his expression. “You’ve always been so kind to me, Lady Lucy,” he says softly. “Sneaking me food on long shifts. Bringing me a cloak on cold nights. Remembering my name.” He opens his eyes, this time full of grief. “I’d give my life for you, Lady Lucy, but I cannot do this.” His voice breaks.

Something must have been said to him by her father. Most likely a threat; what else would make someone’s voice shake like that? Perhaps he mentioned Auhert’s family’s plot of land. How simple it’d be for him to take it, leave his wife and daughter homeless. Lucy knows that her father would do such without hesitation. He has no mercy when he wants something done.

With a sigh, Lucy steps forward and embraces the guard. He jolts, startled by the affection. His hands lift at his sides, indecisive, but then lower. When Lucy backs away, he’s smiling, just barely.

“I’m so sorry, Lady Lucy.”

She turns to retreat to her room, head bowed low. “I understand. You don’t have a choice. Have a good night, Auhert.”

A tiny movement catches Auhert’s eye, and another. He follows its path with his eyes, and realizes they’re from the Lady’s face. She’s crying, but her shoulders don’t shake. She makes no sound at all as she walks back into what may as well be her prison.

Auhert reaches for the small notebook he keeps in the inner pocket of his uniform, the one he keeps to write letters to his family, and begins with, _Lady Lucy Heartfilia is the strongest individual I have, and likely will ever have, the privilege of knowing._

 

* * *

 

 

** STATELY ESCORT DESIRED **   
_WILL ACT AS BODYGUARD OF LADY LUCY OF THE HEARTFILIA ESTATE. KNOWLEDGE OF BASIC ETIQUETTE REQUIRED OR WILL BE TRAINED. ROOM AND BOARD PROVIDED. LENGTH OF TASK NEGOTIABLE. HAVE FLYER IN HAND TO ENTER ESTATE.*_

Just beneath the paragraph, in bolder lettering than even the title, is an immense number that has everyone huddled around the board gaping.

The thick paper is grasped and torn off in an instant, fluttering in the hand of the rosy-haired mage.

“Wouldja look at all those zeros!” he crows, holding the advertisement in both hands.

“That’d get us a lifetime supply of fish!” adds the cat that peers over his shoulder. “Also, what does ‘etiquette’ mean?”

The page is once again snagged away from its place. “It’s a fancy word for manners, which neither of you have,” snaps a mage lacking pants (a detail that is promptly pointed out by a passerby).

Another hand, daintier but steel armor shining, slips the page from the man’s grasp. “No offense intended, but I doubt you’d do much better in such a formal setting, Gray.”

“‘Specially considering the fact you’re a stripper!” mocks the first man, making a grab for the paper.

“Natsu, you should learn some control,” someone says smoothly, waving his hand at the trio. “I’d be best suited for that job. I know my way around that sort of thing, _and_ I’m probably the most charismatic one here. Wait, does that say Heartfilia?” A pause. “Ha. Ha ha. That’s why I’ll let one of you take it. For a challenge. Ha.” The ginger bolts away, out of the building.

The trio shrug it off, and continue bickering about the paper. That is, until it’s _once again_ taken from all three of them to be read by the thief.

“Huh,” he says. Then he folds it and shoves it into his pocket. “I’ll be taking this.”

“Laxus, what the hell?” Natsu shouts, flames licking at the tips of his fingers. “Go do some S-class thing! I wanna do that one!”

Laxus scoffs. “You’d be fired before you even met the chick. Pun not intended, but could be taken literally.”

Natsu growls angrily, but a fierce grip on his collar holds him back from starting a fight. “Erza, lemme go!” he shouts, only to be ignored.

A pretty girl with long white hair peeks around Laxus broad body. “Ooh, you’re really taking a job like this, Laxus? How rare!”

He glances down at her. “Just a break, Mira. Been workin’ my magic like hell the past few jobs. This’ll basically be getting paid to eat, sleep, and stand outside a door.”

Natsu whines from his captive position.

“Well, don’t wear your headphones during the interview. It _is_ the Heartfilia family, after all!” Mirajane says, reaching up to tap the spikes over his ears.

He shrugs. “Whatever. Tell ‘em someone accepted the request. I’m outta here.”

Laxus strolls lazily out of the guild hall, followed only by Natsu’s frustrated shouts and challenges for a fight that he would inevitably lose. He wonders where there’s someplace he can do his laundry nearby before he goes. Will his old suit still fit? Maybe. Who knows if he’ll need one, though. They probably just need him for muscle. The chick’s naïve and airheaded so she gets robbed a lot, or something. Nothing difficult. ‘Course, it can be tough to get more complicated than his last job (“Destroy the moon!” the villagers had said. Now an island has one less purple sky and he has a weird key thing in his pocket).

It’s within the hour when Laxus is on a train that will take him to what’s likely to be the easiest money he’s ever made.

 

xx

*For those who have a difficult time reading all-caps text, this is what the flyer says:

Stately Escort Desired  
Will act as bodyguard of Lady Lucy of the Heartfilia Estate. Knowledge of basic etiquette required or will be trained. Room and board provided. Length of task negotiable. Have flyer in hand to enter estate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is mostly dialogue bc theyre kinda like..... seeing what theyve gotta deal with. also bc lucy is excited about things. its 2am

They don’t consult Lucy about it. In fact, everyone made sure to keep everything very, very quiet. She knew nothing of the context when she was called to her father’s study. This is why, in a state of extreme wariness, she pauses just inside the doors as they are pulled closed behind her.

There’s a broad, muscular man standing behind and to the left of her father. She notices two things about him at once: his hair (spiked and bright, bright blond) and his scar (directly over his eye, shaped like a bolt of lightning). Immediately after that she discreetly furrows her brow in distaste at his clothes (black pants, no belt, purple shirt, no tie, fur-lined coat hanging over his shoulders like a cloak—it has sleeves for a reason, dumbass).

“Who is this?” Lucy asks, not even curtseying to her father in greeting. “And what is he doing here? He _certainly_ isn’t dressed like a suitor.”

Jude Heartfilia is a stern man by nature, so his glare isn’t much different than his resting expression. Growing up on the receiving end of that glare, though, has taught Lucy the difference. She tries not to shrink backward. “Do not be impolite. This man is your private escort.”

The blond man rolls his eyes at the title. This might have amused Lucy on any other occasion (anyone rolling their eyes at her father are friends to her), but not now. Now, she feels nothing except rage.

“ _‘Private escort’_?” she repeats, malice dripping from each syllable. “Father, you misspoke. Perhaps the term you were looking for was _babysitter_. This is because of last week, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer her question, not outright. “You are a Lady,” her father says. “Therefore, you must behave as such. That does not involve running off into the night—alone, for that matter.”

Lucy is silent. Her gaze, sharp as daggers, does not waver from her father’s for a long, tense moment. It is broken when she whirls around and throws open the doors to exit. They fall closed behind her.

The obvious place for her to go would be her room. This is why, when she kicks off her heels and lifts her skirts, she runs to the hall with the door leading to the garden. Auhert isn’t there; no one is. The door is unlocked. She flees outside and only stops when she reaches the fountain, which isn’t even turned on. It hasn’t been, not since the last time they had guests. Due to this, the statue looks almost withered, the cracks in the stone more apparent.

The fountain was nothing like this when her mother was alive.

Lucy sighs to herself. What is she thinking? _Nothing_ is the way it was when her mother was alive. Her father changed so much with his severity and harshness. Even the staff, previously chipper with skips in their steps, become more like zombies near Jude.

There’s something wet on Lucy’s cheek. She wants to believe it’s started to rain, but when she looks up, the only clouds are far in the distance, over the hills. Shaking herself, she wipes the tear away and squeezes her eyes closed until they sting. Crying is not an option. Especially when her new babysitter is likely just out of sight.

_Focus, Lucy_ , she tells herself, keeping her eyes closed. First mapping out the life energy of plants and creatures, she attempts to stretch from there and sense any magic energy that her subconscious might find familiar… yes. Just inside the gate.

“Don’t just stand there,” Lucy snaps, but her words are without bite. God, she’s tired.

He doesn’t hesitate in doing as she asked and walking out toward her from behind some trees. The guy is even taller up close, especially without her heels on for a few inches’ boost. His very presence is large; just being near him, Lucy feels like she needs to move aside to make room. In a way, it reminds her of Jude’s.

“I thought ladies weren’t supposed to run off,” he says, breaking the silence.

Lucy huffs a bit and drops onto the edge of the fountain, resting the palms of her hands behind her and leaning back. “You’ll have to get used to it,” she says, “because when I talk to my father, that’s generally how conversations end.”

“Could’a sworn most of ‘em have a ‘goodbye’ somewhere in there.”

She scoffs. “With him, it’s usually just ‘Return to your room.’ He ignores me if I don’t. A heartwarming relationship, huh?”

The guy sits down on the fountain’s edge next to her, elbows on his knees. “Dads fuckin’ suck,” he says. Lucy looks up. He doesn’t. “I don’t think I know anyone that has a decent relationship with theirs.”

They’re both silent for a while, after that. Lucy trails her fingers through the water. The guy seems lost in his own thoughts—perhaps memories. Lucy is the first to speak again.

“If you call me Lady Lucy, I’ll fire you,” she warns him. “And don’t expect me to call you ‘mister’ anything.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” he replies. “Mister Dreyar sounds like some old snob’s name. Just Laxus.”

“Laxus Dreyar, huh?” Lucy says thoughtfully. Then she pauses, and gasps. “Hold on. Like, the Laxus Dreyar of Fairy Tail? Did my father employ a Fairy Tail mage? Seriously?”

Laxus, without shame, lifts up the bottom of his shirt to show his guild mark, woven into the design of a tattoo. Lucy almost squeals, leaning over and tracing it excitedly with her fingertips.

“So this is what it looks like up close! Sometimes the servants sneak me a _Weekly Sorcerer_ , and I always skip right to the articles about Fairy Tail! I’ve always dreamed of joining, ever since I read an interview with Erza Scarlet! Crux has told me all he knows about Fairy Tail’s history, which is a lot, considering he knows a lot of history about _everything_ , and Fairy Tail has a _lot_ of history!” At this point, she realizes that not only is she rambling, but her face is incredibly close to his, and her hand is hot over his guild mark. Abruptly, she yanks her hand away and jerks back. She convinces herself she’s not blushing.

After a moment of hesitation, Lucy peeks from under her bangs at Laxus. His eyes are a tad wide. Is she imagining the pink dusting over his cheekbones? She must be. He clears his throat. “Ain’t that great. ‘Course, the Master’s my gramps—er, grandfather. So. It’s same-old, same-old, usually.”

The Lady sighs longingly, tapping her bare feet on the cobblestone path. “My same-old, same-old is being ignored by my father until he finds someone convenient for me to marry. I guess it’s kind of alright, though, since he doesn’t really notice me practicing magic.”

This seems to catch Laxus’ attention more than anything else that’s happened all afternoon. “Magic, huh?” he says, resting his elbows on his knees and glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, as if he’s less interested than he is. “What kind?”

Lucy jumps to her feet, beaming. She raises one side of her skirts, revealing a small purse clipped to the white lace garter on her thigh. She’s too eager to show off to notice Laxus’ gaze hovering on her creamy skin. When she pulls some gleaming charms of some sort from the pouch, his eyes focus on them to avoid… well. “I’m a Celestial Spirit Mage!” Lucy’s tone is boasting, but her expression takes on a bit of fear, and she glances nervously at the door to the mansion, worried someone heard. Lowering her voice, she continues, “My mother was one, as well, and she taught me. I inherited her Keys when she died. I don’t have many, considering I don’t exactly get the opportunity to go out and find them, but I love the Spirits I have contracts with. They’re more of a family than my father could ever try to be.”

Laxus reaches out to the keyring, which Lucy hesitates to hand over. When she does, he studies the Keys carefully. “Y’know, I’ve seen some silver ones in stores here and there,” he muses. “And I’m pretty sure some jobs’ve mentioned some kinda keys in their rewards. In fact, I just got one. It’s gold, though, not silver.”

“You have a gold key?” Lucy covers her mouth with her hand. “Really? Which one?”

The man pulls a face. “I dunno. One of ‘em.”

Lucy whines, grabbing his sleeve and tugging it with a pout. “Which _one_ though?” she asks again, drawing out the last word.

With a huff, Laxus runs a hand through his hair (which does nothing to tame it). “Shaped like an arrow, I think? Maybe?”

“Sagittarius!” gasps the other, pout disappearing in a heartbeat. “I can’t believe you have a Zodiac Key!” After a realization, she deflates. “Oh. But I suppose you’ll want to sell it, huh? Since you can’t use it? You’ll get an impressive amount of jewels for it, I’m sure.”

“Well. Ain’t like I’m a cheap hire. Your dad’s payin’ me enough that, uh… I really don’t need the cash I’d get from selling this thing.”

Lucy narrows her eyes at him. “What are you saying?”

He shrugs. “Maybe I’ll give it to you. Provided you can handle it.” With that, he smirks.

Oh, that’s it. Lucy had been distracted by his guild and the talk of magic, but now she’s reminded just who he is and what he’s here for. A babysitter. To keep her out of trouble. To keep her from doing things like _this_. He’s probably going to tell her father the moment she goes to her room. Chances are, he’s even lying about having a Zodiac Key. Maybe he just saw a picture of it in a book, or something, and he’s teasing her. Teasing her that _he_ has freedom, while she’s locked here, in her dressed-up prison.

“Get off your damn high horse,” she snaps, and this time, her voice is harsh, lined with anger. “Don’t think you can dangle a prize in front of my nose to get me to do what you want.” Lucy snatches her keys from his hand and jabs the end of one of them into his sternum, sneering. “You’re under the misconception that I’m some pretty little princess in her rebellious phase. Keep up that train of thought and I promise you, there’ll be no end to your regrets.”

With that, she whips on her heel and stalks away. However, her posture isn’t sulking; it’s powerful, shoulders back, spine straight, chin high, she walks with dignity, grace like a ghost in that she seems to glide. Her anger isn’t like the Salamander’s, Laxus realizes, nor the Titania’s, even his own. Her anger is dry ice, frigid to witness and scalding to touch.

Perhaps this won’t be the easy money he assumed, but Laxus has a strong feeling that it’ll be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> reminder to save the bees


End file.
